"Well, I--I believe I could fill the post of secretary, or----What I should like," he went on, in a sudden burst of candour, and looking deprecatingly at Lady Seely, like a child asking for sugar-plums, "would be to get attached to one of our foreign legations." "I daresay! But that's easier said than done. And as to being a secretary, it's precious hard work, I can tell you, if you're paid for it; and, of course, no post would suit you that didn't pay." "I shouldn't mind hard work." "You wouldn't be much of an Ancram if you liked it; I can tell you I know that much! Well, and how long do you mean to stay in town?" "That is quite uncertain." "You must come and see me again before you go, and be introduced to Lord Seely." "Oh, indeed, I hope so." Come and see her again before he went! What would his mother say, what would his Whitford friends say, if they could hear that speech? Nevertheless, he answered very cheerfully: "Oh, indeed, I hope so!" And interpreting my lady's words as a dismissal, rose to go. "You're really uncommonly nice-looking," said Lady Seely, observing his straight, slight figure, and his neatly-shod feet as he stood before her. "Oh, you needn't look shame-faced about it. It's no merit of yours; but it's a great thing, let me tell you, for a young fellow without a penny to have an agreeable appearance. How old are you?" "Twenty," said Algernon, anticipating his birthday by two months. "Do you know, I think Fido will like you!" said my lady, who observed the fact that her favourite had neither barked nor growled when Algernon rose from his chair. "I'm sure I hope he will; he is so unpleasant when he takes a dislike to people." Algernon thought so too; but he merely said, "Oh, we shall be great friends, I daresay; I always get on with dogs." "Ah, but Fido is peculiar. You can't coax him and he gets so much to eat that you can't bribe him. If he likes you, he likes you--_voilà tout_! By-the-way, do you understand French?" "Yes; pretty fairly. I like it." "Do you? But, as to your accent--I'm afraid that cannot be much to boast of. English provincial French is always so very dreadful." "Well, I don't know," said Algernon, with perfect good humour, for he believed himself to be on safe ground here; "but the old Duc de Villegagnon, an _émigré_, who was my master, used to say that I did not pronounce the words of my little French songs so badly." "Bless the boy! Can you sing French songs? Do sit down, then, at the piano, and let me hear one! Never mind Fido." (Her ladyship had set her favourite on the floor, and he was sniffing at Algernon's legs.) "He don't dislike music, except a brass band. Sit down, now!"